“As I understand it, no. Although, we mustdouble-check. The trainees probably missed it altogether.”

“Woxman is a buffoon. Why did he send thetrainees to talk to the neighbors? Wait, there is a fourthoption.”

“What is it?”

“I've slipped some drug in your coffee.Those magic mushrooms. While you're off, I punch a hole, drainenough blood on the rag, then stitch and bandage your wound. Youwake up, but still under influence. I make a hypnotic suggestionthat the screwdriver hole is such a wonderful thing to have. You'reunder hypnosis…”

“Bullshit. Option five. You dial a flyingsaucer on your mobile phone and your alien friends drag my body outthrough the fifth dimension.”

“Yeah, total garbage. Most importantly, if Iarrange the cover-up with the little green men, I don't need to runto the Police. The fourth option is also eliminated. Theconclusion, Watson. My pipe didn't help much. We have no workingversions, except maybe those movers with a wardrobe.”

“The conclusion, Holmes, coffee has boiled.Let's finish it and go to bed. I have to get up at four tomorrowmorning.”

“I thought Tan is on-duty tomorrow. Or didyou give him a day-off? For his screwed-up birthday?”

“Tan's birthday is still screwed-up. He willbe on-duty at the Beat. And I have to go and search for the missingbody. Woxman wants me to assemble two hundred volunteers byseven-thirty. We must perform some massive area search, hesaid.”

“Your Woxman is positively a buffoon. How doyou collect two hundred people on Saturday morning and with noprior notice?”

“He's not my Woxman. He's Woxman for life.Mister Deputy Investigator knows how to spell ‘impossible’. But itsmeaning he hasn't grasped yet.”

“Hey, can you take me tomorrow? As avolunteer?”

“No way.”

“Why not?”

“Firstly, there will be Woxman. I don't wantyou two to meet. He is already unhappy about you, because you'vecalled the Dispatch, and so he has ended up with this case in hiscapable hands. Secondly, if I bring a skate-bound legless vet andtry to pass her as a volunteer, I will get a demerit.”

“A demerit – you're getting it anyhow. Whereare you going to find two hundred people?”

“I will manage. If there is no choice, Iwill gather some teenagers. It's Saturday, so they're not atschool. Let say, from ten-year-old and up. The instructions saynothing about using the kids, so it must be legal.”

“And you will have ten-year-old girlsrunning around and looking for the dead body?”

“Well, I admit the ten-year-old girls don'tfit quite well in the picture. But the ten-year-old are still moreuseful than legless.”

“You're a low-extremity racist! This isprofound discrimination! On the basis of legless.”

“No discrimination, whatsoever. You're achild of concrete jungles. And as such you constantly forget thathere in Houston we have a well-developed agriculture. The searchwill be commenced at the fields, including all the irrigationditches and the rice paddies. No way your skate can work in suchplaces – physically. Do you want to crawl on your hands, neck-deepin mud? By the way, it's the perfect time to tell you one thingevery slum policeman must know. The! Dark! Secret! Of! Houston!Naturally, I have to swear you to an absolute secrecy.”

“The Dark Secret of Houston? Wonderful. OK,I swear. As Road Runner to Wile E Coyote.”

“Accepted, Runner. Listen in. The farmers inHouston have a conspiracy.”

“A conspiracy?”

“Yes. They developed asecret weapon, all-mighty concoction, which will eventually consumethe city… with all the suburbs… turning us all… intoagricultural zombies.They call it ‘organic fertilizer’… But really it's… shit! Mostlyhuman shit. Tons and tons of shit. Are you scared?”

“OK, I'm scared and I surrender. You're nota racist, despite your profound low extremities. I let ourwell-developed all-agricultural kids deal with the ‘organicfertilizer’. Wandering barefoot in shit is not my dream job.”

Kim shifts the dirty dishes to the side andspreads his futon on the floor, “Let's catch some sleep, Runner.And don't even dream about being agricultural tomorrow…”

Kim Den Gir, Deputy, Harris County Sheriff’sOffice.

Tan and I meet at the agreed spot on thehighway. My partner is going on-duty, so he has arrived properlydressed and with the full gear: his baton, his gun and everythingelse. In striking contrast, my attire consists of a pair of shortsand a T-shirt, and from the Police uniform I have only a cap. On myneck I put a plastic water-tight box with my badge, the cell phone,and some money. The back pockets of my shorts hide the rest of mylaw-enforcing equipment: brass knuckles in the right and handcuffsin the left.

I've selected the shortsfor one reason. Collecting two hundred adult volunteers on Saturdaymorning is not just difficult, but totally impossible. Allmore-or-less fit adults in the Asian slums have something slightlymore important to do than helping the Police to look for a missingperson. For example, trying to earn enough to feed the family inthe evening. Fortunately for us, on Saturday the kids are not atschool, so I hope to enlist the local children. Now imagine thatyou wake up at six AM. At the door, there is a policeman in fulluniform, with a baton and a gun, who asks if your kids canvolunteer. Naturally, your son will be more than interested tocheck my Glock-17and the rest of my equipment. But you, being a responsible parent,will immediately find some urgent chore for your kids. Guns?Batons? Handcuffs? Chasing criminals? Better be safe than sorry. Tomake the recruitment successful, the local deputy must come withoutany visible weapons, and wearing shorts instead of the uniform.Nothing out of the ordinary, simple and boring search through thefields. If it's so safe, why don't we help our Police?

For few seconds I ponderhow to assign our single Walkie-Talkie. It would be logical to haveit with Woxman and me at the China-Five. Without the cell phonecoverage, having a radio is very convenient. On the other hand, Tanmay be called to some emergency, in one of those ‘temporaryunavailable’ GRS areas, and he may need the radio way more than us.If there is no obvious reason to do one way or another, the officermust follow the Standard Operational Procedures. Some brass (nofinger-pointing) even believes that the officers must follow theProcedures always. Mrs Reason must shut up, she has no rank in the PoliceForce. I sigh and surrender our old Motorola to my partner.Simultaneously, Tan receives my strict instructions not to be ourradio operator. If somebody calls Woxman don't even think jumpingon your bike to play a delivery boy. Call a pedicab to the Beat andsend with a message. Woxman can find fifty bucks for the pedicabdriver, no sweat. After my fully-instructed and fully-equippedpartner departs to the Beat, I ride towards the Chinamerican Patches.

At the Patch-Five everyonealready knows about the ongoing Police investigation. The EmergencyResponse cart with a real running horse is impossible to hide,especially from the curious Chinamerican kids. Besides, Woxman'strainees have marked their presence by asking their stupidquestions, and Python Tom, in his blue scene coverall and with his aluminum CSI boxlooks just like an astronaut from Sci-Fi comics. Fortunatelyenough, yesterday I've got a brief second to whisper some properinstructions to the trainees' ears.

“If a single soul in thePatch learns about the blood and the gut-driver,” I've told them, “I amnot going to investigate who can't hold his mouth shut. I shall ripthe balls from two very specific, known to all of us, trainees.Deputy Investigator Woxman, with all his might, will not be able tohelp these poor bastards, understood?”

As far as I can tell by asking few indirectquestions this morning, two specific trainees have kept theirmouths shut, no problems. The Patch population believes that MrVictor Chen has reported his father missing. To cover the trailcompletely, I've shared with some key local gossip-makers (“onlyfor you ma'am, I know I can trust you such a secret”) that VictorChen and Deputy Investigator Woxman have spent the night checkingall the medical facilities this side of Sheldon Reservoir.Obviously, the people don't need to know that Victor Chen has spentthe night in the Station slammer, as the primary suspect in amurder case.